DesiDabba - Boss, Thoda Sa Roomani Ho Jaye

They are easily spotted, unlike their evolved movie cousins. At HyperCity, at InOrbit, at those late late night movie previews, at discotheques. In detergent ads, in public awareness spots, in the metro section of your tabloid, in TV game shows. They are everywhere. Uniquely special to this group is the fact that be it a TV superstar, a wannabe or a has-been; they all display the same characteristics. The spiked, beefed-up, fake tattoo-sporting lad you see at your local mall may just be the next devar on the most popular daily soap/s and the low-waist dressed, malnutritioned, walking advertisement for cell-brands gal strutting her stuff may just be the next bahu or vamp depending on her ‘behenji-bitch’ ratio.

It’s a different thing that by the second season of their soap (or by the time Lord Balaji decides to leap a generation forward) the hunky devar is a tired barely-there husband and the nubile lass is three meals away from graduating to the role of a saas! And before you can say Kahani Kumkum Ke Kasauti Kii, apna dikra-dikri are gone and replaced by a newer, younger set – one that has yet to experience grey hair or the unfortunate effects of gravity.

This then, seems to be the curse of the TV celebrity- short shelf-life. An eager boy from Lucknow, and a dreamy girl from Meerut make their way to Mumbai (since this is the city of dreams, or so the media tells us but more importantly, since this city doesn’t care for the number of tomatoes in a jar!) share an apartment at Four Bungalows, enroll at the local gym and get a portfolio done. If they’re lucky, and almost everyone gets lucky given the number of soaps across the number of channels, the boy and girl get cast as the new entrants in the latest soap to jump 20 years ahead. By month end, for lack of any other social life, the boy-girl shoot for nearly 20 episodes and manage to fall in love off-screen as well. On an aside, the TV industry is like a larger version of Big Brother/Boss. These people live in a cocoon with nary a life outside, and conveniently marry their fellow co-star or even more conveniently their on-screen spouse.

In two months, our Lucky-now boy and Mee-no-rut girl are playing different yet same roles in about four or five different yet same soaps. Three months later, by which time they’ve danced drunk at 10 different yet same100th episode bashes, the boy-girl has a 2BHK flat in either Lokhandwala, Andheri or Thakur, Kandivli. Six months, and the boy is adored by all the gujju Mithibai girls (who fast for seven Mondays so that they can find a husband just like him or atleast shed those extra pounds) and the girl is setting trends for the latest backless-cholis and designer bindis.

2 years, 10 soaps, 1 television event, 3 affairs, 4 public displays of affection, 1 marriage and 730 visits to the mall and poof! Gautam aka Gomzy is no longer the Hrithik Roshan of television. He’s not even TV’s Kumar Gaurav. Gomzy has been replaced by Lakshya-TV’s new reply to silver screen’s Hrithik Roshan.

On a more serious note, it is indeed sad that save a few iconic TV celebrities, most flicker away too soon. Their fifteen minutes bring them time-bound fame, grotesque amounts of purchasing power and a lifestyle all too good all too early.

This wouldn’t have been all that bad, if they just had a little bit of talent to go along with as well!